Nin Melethril an Uir
by Autumn Xavier
Summary: Legolas returns to Mirkwood with Gimli just before he sails the Great Seas. A visit to an old friend reveals that much has changed and that he stood by her husband, Haldir, as he died.
1. Cormamin Niuve Tenna' Ta Elea Lle Au'

AN: Tra la la la la la. Okay, what to say? Um, this is definitely more movie-based, with some stuff from the books, but then again, I wouldn't really know what was in the books since I never read them. Not that I became a fan after the movies came out, I just never cared for the linguistics of the book. I mean, I have the second and third printings of the books, plus the Silmarllion and whatever else my sister had. Anyways, please R&R as this is my first LOTR fic, but please don't flame. ::grabs fire extinguisher and points at readers:: Just in case..Enjoy! Also, I got my translations from grey-company.org/Language/Files/elven.pdf so if anything is wrong, yell at them, not me.  
  
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Nin Melethril an Uir  
  
A soft breeze blew through the woods of the Lorien, the golden leaves rustling as early fall began to approach. The Elven maidens raven black hair fluttered about her face as she looked down off the ivory balcony at the Elves below, preparing themselves to depart for a battle in which they need not participate. Her hand unconsciously strayed to her swollen belly, nine months with child. She closed her eyes as tears trailed down her alabaster cheeks.  
  
She could feel him drawing closer, his thick arms wrapping around her, his hands resting on her stomach. The Elven maiden let her head lean back to rest against his chest, her fingers intertwining with his. "A'maelamin, do not despair. I will return to you within the turning of the moon, for I will be greeted not only by my wife, but a son as well," the Elf said, his voice soft and low. His soft lips brushed against the crape of her neck, as he pulled her closer to him.  
  
The maiden turned to face him, her sapphire eyes meeting with the darkness of his. She reached up and took his face in her hands, his golden hair finding their way around her slender fingers as she brought his lips to meet her own. The kiss was soft, but pleading. He did not want to leave, especially with his lover so close to giving birth, but his duty was to his lord and lady. "Yet I still fear that you will not, melamin. I fear that our son will not know his father and I wish you to stay with me. Let the others go, for they are strong without you. Surely the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galandril will understand your request."  
  
With a painful smile, he wiped away a tear with his thumb as he gently kissed her forehead. "Amin mela lle, Aearyn. Cormamin niuve tenna' ta elea lle au'. I have no choice but to go, for it is my duty to the Lord and Lady of the Wood. I will go to fight for your safety, as that of my son and all of Middle Earth. But for now, let us rest, for I must rise with the sun if I wish to join my kin in battle." The Elf turned, taking his lover by the hand and leading her back inside the flet. The light of the full moon had cast a silver hue across the bedroom, the ivory sheets of the bed appeared as though they were translucent.  
  
The Elf striped himself of the gray cloak he wore, placing his brooch on the bureau across from the bed. He watched as his beloved slid under the sheets, her protruding stomach causing a slight discomfort as she settled into the bed. A smile crept across his broad face as he pulled off his tunic and joined her in the warmth of their bed. He moved his body closer to her own, as he wrapped his strong arms around her, his fingers intertwining around her ebony hair. It would be difficult to leave her, to leave the comforts of his home and the warmth and passion of his wife and lover, yet he had no choice.  
  
He watched as Aearyn slowly drifted into a sleep, but he would not sleep that night for he wished to savor her beauty as the moon's light danced across the ivory of her skin. The night passed quickly and soon he was drawn from the intoxication of her elegance by the low bellowing of the battle horns. The Elf forced himself to rise, leaving the complacency of his lover's bed. As March Warden, he was to lead his kin to Helm's Deep to aid the Men and honor an alliance that was forged long ago.  
  
Slowly, he gathered his armor, the early morning rays glistening off of the golden breastplate, the mark of the Lorien emblazoned in the lightweight metal. The Elf smiled and quietly sat next to her, pulling the covers over her shoulder. He gently kissed her lips, before moving to the womb of their child. "Fear not, my son. For soon, we will meet and I will pass my skill onto you, for you are a warrior, Cahir. Amin mela lle, and take care of your mother while I am gone, as she distresses so."  
  
With a last kiss to Aearyn, the March Warden gathered his sword, bow and quiver, leaving a letter to his beloved as he secured his burgundy cloak around his broad shoulders. He looked around the white room once more, relishing in it's tranquility for soon he would be facing the darkness of battle, and as quick as the wind, he was gone. Nothing disturbed the room, save for the breeze as it flowed gently through the room, the sheer curtains billowing with every breath.  
  
Yet an uncanny poured over the room while the Elven woman slept on. The ivory floor became earthen and damp as the rich soils of the battlefields. The white cascading walls lost their luster and were as the cold stone of a fortress. The placid morning wind turned to the melancholy night rain, harsh and bitter. Where once there was beauty and life, death and despair blanketed the room. Hundreds of Men stood watch as the armies of the Isengard marched forth, thousands of Elven warriors awaited for their signal, arrows notched and ready to kill. Yet the maiden slept still, unaware of the battle about to ensue.  
  
The March Warden looked to his companion to his right, the Prince of Mirkwood. With a forced smile, he turned back to the approaching armies, his thoughts wandering to the wife he had awaiting his return. He understood what she had meant now, watching the Uruk-Hai draw closer to their safeguard. This was a war that they would not win, even with the aid of the Elves. "Are you ready to die for you love, Legolas, son of Thranduil?"  
  
The Prince glanced to him, his ocean blue eyes looked over his senior, concern growing in the depths. "Nay, we will not die here, my brother. You will return to your beloved, as I will eventually find mine once more. I shall see you when the sun rises, Haldir, guard of the Lorien." The flaxen- haired Prince nodded to the March Warden and disappeared in the mass of Men who were preparing to face those on ground.  
  
The Elf nodded to his kin and notched his own arrow, drawing the string parallel to his ear. "Archers, draw your strings! Release!" Thousands of finely crafted arrows pierced through the hearts and bodies of the charging Uruk-Hai, black blood splattering against their comrades. The battle began, arrows flying one after another, crooked sword ending lives of young boys barely sixteen. Fierce, deformed faces gnawed at the bodies of the fallen, crimson blood running down their blackened flesh, the White Hand turning pink.  
  
Screams echoed throughout the night as blood painted the ground. The smell of burning flesh filled the fortress as the Uruk-Hai set the Elves and Men ablaze. Elves fell to foreign weapons as they ripped through their chests and arms. Poisoned arrows found their way to the Men's mortal hearts. It was not long before the Uruk-Hai broke the gates of the fortress.  
  
Although his ears were sharp, Haldir could not hear the warning over the screams of the Men falling beside him. He felt a pain growing in his stomach as his dark eyes traveled down to the Uruk-Hai sword piercing his chest. His body was growing weaker as his legs gave way to the weight of his body. His lips moved, although no sound escaped them as he whispered broken promises to his beloved.  
  
He did not feel the second sword as it came down across his back, nor did he see the King of Gondor, fighting his way through the Isengard to be by his side in death. The world was spinning before him and the night was taking over. Voices became distant as his body separated from the world of the living. His last breath was painful, but his only thought was of his wife.  
  
Yet, throughout the night, over the death and the clink of metal against metal, a scream echoed throughout the valley as the Elven woman awoke. "Haldir!"  
  
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	2. Elen Sila Lumenn Omentilmo

Aearyn awoke with a start, her brow lined in a damp sweat. The room was quiet and empty, no stonewalls were being attacked by the dark armies of Isengard. It had been over 120 years since they were defeated in the War of the Ring, as was the destruction of Sauron and the One Ring. Long since, the Elves had either sailed the Great Sea or remained in Mirkwood of King Thranduil, in the northern most part of Rhovanion.  
  
She sighed and pulled her legs up under her chin, saltine tears rolling down her cheeks, landing on the soft woolen sheets of her bed. The moon was full once again, waning into the dark night, growing more distant from the Earth. Aearyn shook slightly as she dragged herself from the bed, her body still in shock from the dream. The wood floor felt cold and damp against her bare feet.  
  
"Atara?"  
  
The corner of her mother slightly turned into a smile, though it was forced. Her eyes turned to look at her son, his hand grasping the hilt of his sword. Although his eyes were dark and had hair to match that of his mother, so much of Haldir could be seen in his features.  
  
"I am fine, utinuamin. It was merely a disturbing dream that wrenched me from sleep. Be at ease, for you will find no Orcs here," she replied, her voice broken. Carin nodded and leaned his sword against the wall. He slowly crossed the room to stand before his mother, the shadows moving across his face.  
  
"Another nightmare? About Father, no less. Though I did not know him, I know he would not have wanted to see you so saddened. He would have wanted nothing more than your happiness," he said, wrapping his arms around his mother's shoulders.  
  
Aearyn swallowed hard and embraced her son. In a way, he was right; Haldir would not have wanted to see her tears fall, nor to see pain in her heart. She smiled and kissed her son's cheek. "Return to bed, Carin. Tomorrow is an early day for starts the Iavas Bereth and I know that you will wish to participate in the morning festivities, especially with the young Maighdlin."  
  
Carin stepped back and gave Aearyn a wryly look. "And how may I ask did you find out about Maighdlin?"  
  
The Elven woman merely shrugged and stood next to her son. She wrapped her arm around his and led him to the door. "A mother always knows, child, even when you do not think they not. Besides, I am not as blind to your frequent disappearances as you would like to think. But alas, I will return to bed for the remainder of the night and you would be wise to do so as well. Quel du, my son."  
  
"Quel du Atara, and do not let the demons of the night disturb you so. Father loved you and he still does, he would not tears to fall for him," Carin said softly. He kissed his mother's smooth hand and picked up his sword, walking into the darkness of their flet.  
  
Aearyn sighed and returned to her bed but sleep did not come to her. Instead, she watched as the skies slowly turn from darkness to the magnificence of the early dawn. The Iavas Bereth would be upon them in a few hours and the kingdom of Thranduil would come alive with merriment.  
  
***************  
  
The wood seemed as welcoming as ever for it had been nearly 125 years since he had been to his home. The sun illuminated the dirt path that lead to the eastern trees of Mirkwood, and soon his father's court and the Iavas Bereth would welcome him. The young Prince smiled and thought of the comforts he had long forgotten in the years that his travels had brought him.  
  
"What're we waitin' for? That waybread that has yet to fill my stomach as it should and I could use with a strong quart of a rich honeyed mead, Legolas," came a gruff voice from his waist.  
  
"Aye, my good friend. I too long for a good meal but this is the day of the Iavas Bereth, one of the most celebrated festivals of my father's kingdom and there will be more food than even you can eat, Gimli. And the richest of Elven wines are imported for all over Middle Earth that no mortal can withstand. It will definitely be good to be home," the Elven prince replied, a smile beaming across his broad face. "Come, let us ride for I much desire to my home once again."  
  
With a hard heel to the horse's side, Legolas sent his white steed galloping down the earthen path that disappeared into the woods, with the Dwarf's pony not far behind him. The cool breeze of the autumn air felt good against the warmth of their skins as the trees and brushes flew past the Elf and Dwarf. As the trees grew less dense and the path became more worn, the sharp ears of the Elven Prince could pick up on the songs of the Iavas and the scents of foods filled his nose, the sounds and scents of familiarity.  
  
Gates stood erected around the borders of the village, keeping unwanted visitors aloft while allowing the kin of the village to live safely among their own. Legolas reined his horse to a halt as Gimli did the same, the chestnut pony skidding across the dirt. The guard looked to the Elf and then the Dwarf at his side. "State your name and business, mellonamin for it is the time of the Iavas Bereth and though our village welcomes all travelers, we must still be wary of any that may be seeking to do harm rather than good."  
  
"Be at ease, tororamin, for I merely wish to return to my home and visit with my father before sailing the Seas. I am the son of King Thranduil, Legolas Greenleaf and this is Master Gimli, son of Glóin and a member of the Fellowship, such as myself. Surely you will grant us access to my own village?" Legolas said, anticipation rising in his stomach for he much longed to be within the comforts of home.  
  
The guard eyed them suspiciously and nodded to a second guard in the tower. The second guard disappeared and slowly the gates receded, opening to the kingdom that prospered behind them. Legolas thanked the guard and gently heeled his horse forward, his crystal eyes alight with joy. Gimli strained to look around the Prince's mighty stallion, yet he could not see past its backside and had to wait until he passed to see what the realm of Mirkwood offered.  
  
He could not help but notice the way that the women eyed his friend as they rode through the village, yet Legolas did not seem to notice their unusual reactions to his return. Or perhaps they were looking at him, for he knew that many Elven villages were not so well acquainted with the Dwarven race. A hearty laugh resounded from in front and Gimli noticed that Legolas had stopped and was starting to dismount. Not wanting to make himself awkward in a strange village, Gimli followed in suit and also dismounted from his pony.  
  
Before them stood an Elf much like Legolas, though Gimli had noticed that most of the Elven males of Mirkwood strongly resembled his friend. But this one was dressed in fine clothing, a dark emerald tunic over russet pants and a fine green cloak that matched the forest around them. This was surely the king of this realm as a guard of no less than ten accompanied him. He watched as Legolas moved forward and embraced him, as he returned the gesture.  
  
"Mae govannen Legolas! It has been many years, utinuamin, since you have wandered though your own wood! It will be a joyous Iavas this year, with your return to Mirkwood. But you must be weary from your travels and no doubt your stomach craves a substantial meal, so come and let us talk over breakfast!" The Elf wrapped his arm around his son's shoulders and they began to walk towards a great palace that stood near the center of the town. Gimli grunted and grabbed the reins of the horses and trailed the two and the guard.  
  
***************  
  
"Forgive me, my good Dwarf, for not first introducing myself. I am King Thranduil, the lord of this realm and the father to your traveling companion," the noble Elf said as they seated themselves at the table.  
  
"It's an honor, my lord. I am Gimli, son of Glóin and the only survivor of the realm of Moria," the Dwarf replied with a deep bow of his head. Thranduil laughed and firmly grasped the Gimli's shoulder.  
  
"There is no need for such formalities, mellonamin. You are a true friend of my son and therefore, I consider you one of my own. All are welcomed during the Iavas for it is a celebration of the fall and of the passing of the harvest," he said, taking a heavy sip from his mug. "But tell me of your adventures, of your travels, Legolas. Many years have passed since I was free to journey the lands of Middle Earth and no doubt, much has changed since then. I had heard that many of the Fellowship had fought bravely but fell to enemy swords, yourself included, Legolas."  
  
The Prince laughed and shook his head. "Nay, Atar, I did not fall to enemy swords though Gandalf the White, then Gandalf the Grey, lost his life to a Balrog in the depths of Moria, only to be revived by the Lady of the Woods, Galandrial. In his rebirth, he then became Gandalf the White."  
  
Gimli sighed and smiled to himself. His fingers strayed to the crimson curls of his beard, in which he had intertwined the precious three strands of hair that had came from the Lady's golden head. Thranduil nodded, eager to hear more of his son's travels. "And how fairs she? The Lady Galandrial I have not seen since the early parts of the Third Age. Did you seek out a certain raven-haired Elf there?"  
  
"She fairs well though I believe that she and Lord Celeborn had recently sailed the Seas, along with most of the Galandhrim though I do not know what you mean by the raven-haired Elf. Surely you don't mean Aearyn Ladrielith?" Mild confusion swept across the usually passive face of Legolas, for he did not understand the meaning of his father's inquiry.  
  
"Aye, she is the only one that resided there during the Third Age. You did not visit her while in Lothlórien?"  
  
Legolas shook his head and looked to his father, concern growing in his eyes. "I inquired of her whereabouts but the Marchwarden told me that no such maiden had crossed their borders. I now fear that she may not have made it to the Lórien," Legolas replied, looking to the mug in his thick hands.  
  
The smile that had been on the King's face fell and his azure eyes fell to the table. "'Tis a shame that men often grow jealous should another man seek his wife, especially when such a man was the Marchwarden."  
  
"I do not comprehend what you are saying. Do you mean to tell me that Haldir of Lórien was deceitful in his response to Aearyn's location?"  
  
The King gave a half-hearted chuckled and looked to his son. "I do, for I know that Aearyn resided in Lórien for many years. She returned to Mirkwood just after the spring of 3019 and the war of Rohan and Helm's Deep against the Isengard. Aearyn came with her son for she could not bear to remain in Lórien, the realm that she had shared with her husband, Haldir of Lórien and the Marchwarden to the Lord and Lady of the Wood."  
  
Gimli, who had been in lost in his thoughts of the Lady Galandrial, turned at the mention of Haldir's name and the term of husband. "Do you speak of the Lady Aearyn, the wife of Haldir?"  
  
Legolas was slightly taken aback that Gimli too knew of Aearyn's marriage to Haldir. True he had spoken much about her in their many years of travel, but the only place he could have learned of the marriage was from either Haldir or Aearyn herself. "You met with Aearyn in Lothlórien?"  
  
"Aye I did, she was almost as beautiful as the Lady Galandrial. She had requested to meet those of the Fellowship and Haldir brought us before her," Gimli replied, looking most pleased with himself.  
  
"And how many dark haired Elves did you think were in Lórien, my friend? Dark hair is a trait of the Imladris, of Rivendell, the city of her mother, Celedë," Legolas asked, looking at his companion.  
  
The Dwarf huffed and adjusted himself in his seat. "Well she hadn't quite the physique you had described! The Lady Aearyn was well with child and was certainly not the slender Elf you claimed her to be!"  
  
Resentment grew inside of the Prince as he thought of Aearyn's swollen belly with a child other than his, though he remained calm on the outside. He was angry with himself for not being honest with Aearyn so many centuries ago and yet, he knew that she would have moved on by now, though he never thought she would love the arrogant Marchwarden. Of course, he too was arrogant.stubborn.prideful. Very much like Haldir had been and it slowly dawned on Legolas how Aearyn could love the Marchwarden. They were much alike in personality, yet Haldir had returned Aearyn's love where Legolas had not. "Atar, how did you come to the conclusion that I too had died in the War of the Ring?"  
  
"I had been informed upon Aearyn's return. It would appear that Haldir had told her that you had died for fear of what might happen should she be reunited with you. As I said before, jealousy will drive a man to the most extreme resources, and lying is not an exception," Thranduil said, looking to his son. He was a pity that the young Prince had been so foolish in his youth, so hasty to make a decision that he would regret and it pained Thranduil to watch that regret eat away at his son. "Should you wish to speak with her, Legolas, she should be visiting her mother in the house the Celedë once shared with Tyndel."  
  
The Prince nodded in appreciation and rose from the table, walking from the dining room. Thranduil watched as his son turned the corner and disappeared down the hall before looking to the short Dwarf beside him. "Master Gimli, you are accustomed to traveling with my son, correct? Perhaps you can accompany him to visit the Lady Aearyn to ensure that he should not stray into too much trouble as I know he has been known to do when in her company."  
  
With a final gulp from his quart of mead, the Dwarf rose and bowed to the King. "I would be honored, for I now wish to see the Lady Aearyn as well. Many years have passed since our paths where crossed and it seems fate has allowed to me to make her acquaintance once again."  
  
The halls were decorated in garlands of red and orange, and several fresh bouquets had been aligned along the broad railings of the palace flets. Gimli looked in awe, though the flets of Lórien were much nicer for they had been of the light while their woodland kin of Mirkwood had been more inclined to the gifts that nature had given them. Ahead, Gimli could see his friend, looking out over the realm below him. He did not need to say anything for Legolas to know he was there.  
  
"I never thought that Aearyn would marry another, Gimli, let alone birth a child. I had always envisioned that we would be reunited during our journey through Caras Galadon though in reality, she was with the child of the Marchwarden. How ironic that I stood beside him as he fell to his death. True, he fell at the hands of the Uruk-hai, but somehow, I feel as though I am partially to blame," the Prince said, turning to the Dwarf.  
  
"You cannot blame yourself for what fate dealt her, Legolas. Though it would appear that fate is on your side, should you wish to look at it so. Many years have separated you but if you were once as close as you claim than Aearyn should still honor your friendship," Gimli replied, placing a thick hand on Legolas's back to comfort him. "I'd like to see more of your father's kingdom, and if it suits you to visit her, I would wish to escort you."  
  
Legolas smiled and looked to the dark eyes of the Dwarf. Though many would not find such insight from such an unlikely companion, the Elf always seem to find great confidence in the wise words that Gimli often spoke. "And I would have it no other way," he said.  
  
***************  
  
The path from the palace to the Ladrielith house was short, as it had always been that the homes of the royal guard be close to that of the King and his family. It was a familiar path, despite that Legolas had not traveled it in well over 800 years. The sweet scents of cinnamon and nutmeg filled the wood surround the house and the Prince knew that Celedë was making her infamous cidered apples and honeyed ham.  
  
The Iavas was not only a celebration but also a gathering of all the Elves of Thranduil's realm to come together and wish well for the winter. Over the Ages, it had become custom for every family to bring a dish for the feast. Of these, the cidered apples and honeyed ham that Aearyn's mother made were the most popular every year. Though she had been born of the court and lived as one of the consorts in Mirkwood, Celedë had acquired a great skill for cooking.  
  
As the two approached drew closer to the home, a full garden of flora came into view. The color of the flowers matched that of the season as sunflowers and alstroemenia surrounded lilies and snapdragons. An orchid of roses grew next to the house, the bushes slowly creeping towards the sky. Legolas smiled as he walked towards the open door and gently knocked. "The King sends his greetings to the Lady of the house."  
  
The tall Elven woman looked out from the kitchen and gasped. She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, though she had to reach up to do it. "Well, this is quite a surprise! Come in, come in for it has been long since you sat in my home as if it were you own! And who is your friend, Legolas, for I have not seen a Dwarf in this region for quite some time."  
  
"This is Gimli, son of Glóin and a former member of the Fellowship, as was myself. Indeed it has been long since I last visited but the intoxicating smell of your cidered apples brought my feet to your door and I could not resist a visit," Legolas replied, leaning against the table in the kitchen.  
  
Celedë laughed and returned to the pot over the fire. "Aye, the smell is strong though I do not yet have the apples and am merely mixing the cider to save time for later," she said, stirring the dark liquid. Her hazel eyes glanced to the ceiling above her, to the second floor of the house where her daughter slept.  
  
"Quel amrun, grandmother. I'm afraid that I will have to do my chores later for I must go to speak with Maighdlin's father but fear not, I will return before mid-noon," a young Elf said as he quickly walked down the stairs. He walked across the kitchen and looked into the pot that Celedë had busied herself with. From his dark hair and chocolate eyes, Legolas easily concluded that this was the child of Aearyn and Haldir. He looked to the Prince and smiled, declining his head in a brief nod. "Mae govannen, utinu. I apologize for not acknowledging you sooner. I'm Carin Ladrielith, son of Haldir of Lórien and what is your name?"  
  
"I am but an old friend of your mother, Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil of Mirkwood," Legolas replied, extending his hand for Carin to shake. The dark-haired Elf smiled and looked to Celedë, who had returned to her cooking.  
  
"Grandmother, is he truly who he claims? For Mother will be much surprised to learn of his return. She has told me much about you, Legolas. I shall tell her you are awaiting her downstairs," said Carin as he started towards the stairs but Celedë quickly grabbed the sleeve of his rust colored tunic.  
  
The Elder woman pulled her grandson to the side, and brought his head close to her mouth. "Carin, it would be unwise for you tell your mother of this for when they meet again, it will be an emotional time for her. It's best that Legolas meet her alone first, rather than having her son, who has been known for practical jokes on more than one occasion, inform her," she whispered to him, her voice so low that even Legolas had trouble making out what she had told Carin. The Elf nodded to his elder and glanced at Legolas before gathering his quiver and bow.  
  
"Saesa omentien lle, Legolas. Namaarie Master Dwarf! I hope that our paths will cross again soon," Carin said as he jogged out of the house and headed towards the village.  
  
Celedë looked to Legolas, concerning crossing her ageless face as her dark eyes watched the Prince process what had happened to his childhood friend. "It was not for many years after she left here that she married Haldir, long since she had last spoken with you. She didn't take him as her husband because she did not care for you, for she often inquired as to your health, but because she had found true happiness in Lothlórien with the Marchwarden. You're time with her passed many years ago and all she seeks now is a lost friend she cared deeply for," she said, wrapping her smooth, tiny hand around the thickness of his.  
  
"I understand and accept her decision, Celedë, for as her friend I would only ask for her joy and many years of happiness in her life. I too much desire to be united with my friend and ask that I may be permitted to see her," replied the Prince as he stood from the table. He looked to Gimli, who had taken to inspecting the unusual fruits that sat before him, and shook his head. "Should it not bee too much trouble, perhaps you would as kind to provide Gimli with food, though he ate much at my father's table just an hour ago."  
  
With a bob of her head and a warm smile, Celedë took three bright yellow fruits from the bowl and cut them into fourths, placing them on a dish before the Dwarf. Gimli looked at the odd fruit and raised a brow, picking up a slice and smelling its sweet scent. Hesitantly, he took a bite and was greeted by ecstasy, the pleasing taste filling his taste buds with a numbing sensation. "It is a fruit of the Iavas, called Aoibhneas. It's juices produce a mild narcotic, giving a slight tingling feeling in your mouth. Legolas, you will find Aearyn in the room upstairs to the right, the same she had as a child."  
  
The Elf nodded and slowly climbed up the cherry oak stairs, letting his hand slide up the recently waxed banister, careful not to disturb the brightly colored garlands. Though he was meeting with someone he had known since the middle of the Third Age, he felt as though his heart was determined to free itself from his chest. He turned the corner, disappearing from the view of those downstairs and stood before the double doors that led to Aearyn's room.  
  
With a deep breath, he gently rapped on the door with a half-formed fist. Movement was heard from opposite the doors and the sounds of footsteps approached. His blue eyes looked to the floor, his nerves slowly catching up with him and he almost regretted knocking for he was not sure he was actually ready to look upon his friend. The brass handle turned down and the door pulled back to room it had concealed.  
  
The Elven woman looked as she always did, her obsidian hair pulled behind her head in a single, simple braid, dressed in a loose-fitting bronze tunic over a cream shirt with a light brown skirt that was fitted, but did not cling, to her body. Though she had bore a child, her stomach had returned to its previous flattened state. Her dark eyes grew watery as she looked over the Prince, disbelief becoming their prominent emotion as her hand slowly moved to cover her mouth.  
  
"H-Haldir?"  
  
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Author's Notes: Okay, I am extremely lazy and I never finished reading the books because they were actually kinda slow and boring to me, so I kinda just made up how I thought the Elves would live. If you don't like it, oh well, I can't please everyone. Obviously, this is more movie-based with some influence from the books. I got the terms from so if the words aren't exactly right, please don't sue me and just help me with what they say. Below is the basic translation of what I *think* they mean. Anyways, please please please please please please, R/R! I will start working on Chapter 3 tomorrow, if I don't fail my Gov't test.I hate college.  
  
Glossary: Atara - Mother Atar - Father Utinuamin - My son Mellonamin - My friend Tororamin - My brother/My kin Mae govannen - Well met Quel du - Good Night Quel amun - Good Morning Namaarie - Farewell Saesa omentien lle - Pleasure meeting you Utinu - son 


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